


something so magic about you

by emandrea



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 6000 years worth of slow burn in one fic, Aziraphale/Crowley - Freeform, First Kiss, Fluff, Ineffable Idiots, Other, crowley doesn’t know how to function, honestly they’re just idiots, ineffable husbands, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 19:18:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19818835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emandrea/pseuds/emandrea
Summary: It was a week after the armageddon-that-wasn’t and while Crowley felt more comfortable now, knowing that their respective head offices were leaving them alone (at least for now), he was still terrified of admitting his feelings for Aziraphale, whether that be to the angel or to himself.basically just some first kiss fluff between everyone’s favorite ineffable idiots husbands !!





	something so magic about you

**Author's Note:**

> work title inspired by hozier’s “from eden”
> 
> i don’t own any of these characters they belong to neil gaiman and terry pratchett
> 
> also posted on my tumblr (queer-omenss)

6:56. Aziraphale was running late. He should have left the bookshop ten minutes ago if he was going to make it to dinner on time. As he locked the door of the shop, he briefly considered using angelic means to get himself there, but he did quite enjoy more human methods of transportation. Stepping up to the curb, the angel hailed a cab and arrived at the Ritz only ten minutes late. He paid and thanked the driver, straightening his jacket and vest before entering the restaurant. As he entered, he spotted Crowley at a circular table not far from where Aziraphale was standing. The demon turned and gave a small wave, and Aziraphale hurried over, feeling a flush creep onto his cheeks. He hoped Crowley wouldn’t notice. 

The angel slid into the seat opposite the demon, straightening his bow tie as he did so.  
“Agh I am so sorry I’m late!” he said, and he seemed rather distressed over it, Crowley noticed.  
The demon debated reaching out for Aziraphale’s hand, which was sitting on the table, to comfort him, but changed his mind.

“Don’t worry about it, angel.” he reassured him, giving a small but genuine smile. Aziraphale didn’t look any less concerned. 

“But I’m late, Crowley! I’ve made you wait!” Aziraphale continued, wringing his hands. This time Crowley moved before he could stop himself, reaching out to grasp each of the angel’s hands in his own. To stop him fretting, Crowley told himself. This was definitely the only reason why he did that, and his heart was certainly not beating 1000 beats per minute at the feeling of the warmth from Aziraphale’s hands. 

“Really, angel, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Crowley assured him, giving Aziraphale’s hands a reassuring squeeze before pulling his own away, as if he finally realized what he was doing. He felt heat flush his neck, and hoped the angel wouldn’t see. Crowley forced his heart to stop beating out of his chest, and gave Aziraphale a soft smile.  
Aziraphale was somewhat relieved by Crowley’s reassurances, though he was certainly slightly thrown off when the demon had grasped his hands, and, moments later, surprisingly disappointed when he had pulled them away again. There was a moment of silence before either spoke again. 

“Wine?” Crowley asked, picking up the bottle in front of them, old and undoubtedly quite expensive. Aziraphale nodded, holding his glass up so Crowley could pour the deep red liquid into it. Aziraphale swirled it around and took a sip, sighing slightly as he did so. It was a very good wine. He caught Crowley gazing at him. Aziraphale narrowed his eyes.

“What?” he asked. 

Crowley blinked rapidly when he realized he had been staring at the angel and made an effort to appear more nonchalant in the chair. 

“Oh nothing, angel, nothing.” he replied. Oh but it certainly was something, though the angel needn’t know that. It was a week after the armageddon-that-wasn’t and while Crowley felt more comfortable now, knowing that their respective head offices were leaving them alone (at least for now), he was still terrified of admitting his feelings for Aziraphale, whether that be to the angel or to himself. Aziraphale was still looking at him curiously when the waiter came over to take their order. Crowley never ate very much, so Aziraphale ordered some sort of fancy seafood platter for them to share. 

They passed the time waiting for their food to come by discussing Aziraphale’s bookshop. How many customers he had to turn away today, if he considered making it an online shop. When their meal arrived, along with a second bottle of wine, seeing as they’d already finished the first one, the talking ceased as they began to eat. Well, Aziraphale ate. Crowley had approximately one (1) prawn before sliding the rest of the tray over to Aziraphale. The angel frowned but did not protest. He would never turn down extra food. Crowley swirled his wine around in his glass as he leaned back in the chair watching Aziraphale eat. The warm lighting in the restaurant caused the angel’s hair to glow a sort of gold. Crowley could feel the warmth radiating off him. Something inside him made Crowley want to press himself up against the angel to soak up the warmth, and he wasn’t sure if it was just the cold-blooded snake part. The demon sat there, gazing at the angel while he finished the seafood and patted his lips clean with a napkin, looking satisfyingly full. 

“Mmph, absolutely scrumptious.” Aziraphale sighed, patting his stomach. He looked so pleased, so… content. Crowley was glad he was wearing his sunglasses so Aziraphale couldn’t see his expression. It was moments like this, the seemingly normal, domestic things, that made Crowley fall even more in love with Aziraphale. When the angel was carefree, unburdened by the worries of who might be watching, what might happen. It really hit Crowley then, that that was what he had been feeling for thousands of years. Love. Of course he knew it before this moment, at the Ritz. But maybe, just now, when it was just them and no sides, no head offices. No consequences. Maybe now he had let himself feel it in the full, unsuppressed way he had wanted to for so long. And as that realization hit him in the chest like a ton of bricks, he felt himself shakily setting his now empty wine glass onto the table. Aziraphale noticed the slight tremors in Crowley’s usually smooth, fluid motions and frowned, worried. 

“Are you alright, dear?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Crowley nodded. “Yeah just… too much wine, I think.” 

They hadn’t even finished the second bottle. Aziraphale frowned even deeper, but decided not to pester him further. Not here, not now, not in this public place. He flagged the waiter down and asked for the cheque. When Crowley reached for his wallet, Aziraphale stopped him.

“No, my dear, my treat.” Aziraphale assured him, causing Crowley to slowly replace his wallet into his pocket. 

“Thanks, angel.” he replied, his voice weaker than he meant it to be. Once the bill was paid, the two immortals rose, tucking their chairs back in. As they stepped out into the warm London breeze, Crowley turned left. “Bentley’s this way.” he said by way of explanation, but he was stopped by Aziraphale’s hand on his arm before he could make it more than a few steps.

“You are absolutely not driving in this state,” he admonished gently, still unsure as to what ‘state’ the demon was actually in. “We’ll take a cab.” Aziraphale hesitated, unsure of where they were to take the cab to. Crowley sensed the angel’s uncertainty and provided an answer. 

“The bookshop is good.”

Aziraphale nodded, flagging down a cab and opening the door, waiting for Crowley to slide inside before he followed. The car started moving before Aziraphale could get his seatbelt on, and when the driver took a sharp turn it sent him sliding into Crowley, the demon catching him with gentle arms. 

“Seatbelts, angel. They’re important.” he tisked, his voice tainted with laughter, but made no move to remove his arms from where they were wrapped around the angel, one between Aziraphale’s shoulder and the seat back, and one propping up his other shoulder. Though it was a matter of moments before Aziraphale moved and buckled himself in, it felt like eons. The warmth of the angel had seeped in to Crowley, so warm and so Aziraphale, that when the angel moved away, it was like a blast of cold air hitting Crowley’s skin. He crossed one leg over the other making himself into a tighter tangle of limbs than he was normally seen in. Aziraphale noticed this and frowned. Again. Something was off with his demon. And then he froze. He hadn’t meant to think it. Hadn’t meant to add the possessive article before ‘demon’. Hadn’t meant to… But then maybe he had, subconsciously. In the week following the not-so-end of the world, Aziraphale had let himself think more about his feelings for Crowley. He knew he had some, though for the longest time, hundreds of years at least, he wouldn’t let himself give them much thought. Foolish. What would Upstairs think? But now, with no interference from Upstairs for what he hoped would be a while, he had started giving those feelings some attention. He knew he thought of Crowley as more than a friend. Anyone would, he reasoned, if one were to spend 6000 years with someone. His train of thought was interrupted as the cab came to a halt in front of the bookshop. 

They hopped out, paid the driver, and slipped into the building, Aziraphale ensuring the ‘CLOSED’ sign was hanging in the window before drawing the blinds. He entered the back room to find Crowey already sprawled out on the couch, his glasses sliding down his nose slightly.  
Determined to figure out what had Crowley so bothered, Aziraphale pulled up a large pouf in front of the couch and sat on it, causing Crowley to sit up and lean against the back of the sofa, facing Aziraphale. Slowly, Aziraphale reached out a hand and tapped softly on the demon’s glasses, his eyebrows raised in question. Crowley nodded slightly, and Aziraphale gently removed the dark glasses from his face. Crowley blinked once, and Aziraphale sat, mesmerized by his eyes for a moment before coughing lightly and placing the glasses on the desk behind him. 

“What is it, angel?” Crowley asked, tilting his head slightly, looking sort of like a confused puppy. Aziraphale hesitated.

“Are- are you alright, Crowley?” he asked, and Crowley could see the genuine concern on the angel’s face.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t be?”

“It’s, well, at dinner, you seemed… seemed sort of.. off?” Aziraphale said nervously, before giving a soft, half-hearted chuckle. “You said you’d had too much wine, but I’ve never seen you get that… shaky after only a bottle and a half.”

Crowley fidgeted slightly, long fingers drawing idle shapes into the couch. 

“Maybe I’m just tired.” he said rather unconvincingly. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, not buying it. “Its… its…” he started, unable to find the right words. “Argh!” he huffed, frustrated, flinging himself up off the couch, pacing off to the side. Aziraphale turned to watch him.

“Take your time, dear, it’s alright.” he said softly.  
Crowley laced his fingers together behind his head as he paced, then flung his arms back down.

“It’s… it’s you, angel!” he said, finally, stopping his pacing and coming to stop in front of the angel. He looked away, out the window, into the street that had gone dark. Aziraphale was puzzled.

“Me?” he asked, brow creasing in confusion. Crowley let out an exasperated sound, a mix between a sigh and a shout.

“Yes! You! You, you, you-” Crowley clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides. “You are just, argh, just-” he stopped again, struggling to express his thoughts.

Aziraphale reached out and gently tugged Crowley’s arm, guiding him to sit back down on the sofa in front of him. Aziraphale scooched the pouf closer, till their knees were just brushing. Crowley sank onto the couch, his head in his hands, braced on his knees. Aziraphale leaned forward and laid a hand on the demon’s knees, causing him to raise his head. Their faces were mere inches apart. Crowley took a deep breath, steadying himself. 

“You’re just so… so god- so satan- so someone-damned perfect.” There, he had said it. Well, part of it. Aziraphale blinked, pulling back every so slightly. Crowley grabbed his wrist. 

“I-wha-” he started, dazed by the emotions running through him at that very moment. Had Crowley really just said what he thought he said? Doubt crossed Aziraphale’s mind, and it must have shown on his face, because Crowley slid his hand from Aziraphale’s wrist to his hand, picking up the other one with his other hand as well. 

“Perfect, angel. I-I know that I’m a demon and you’re an angel and that there is no way we could ever-” the rest of his words were cut off by Aziraphale’s mouth covering his. Crowley froze, shocked, thinking Aziraphale would regret what he had done and pull away. But when he didn’t, Crowley relaxed into the kiss, dropping Aziraphale’s hands to gently hold the sides of the angel’s face, caressing his jaw. Aziraphale’s hands found their way to Crowley’s waist and he pulled the demon closer, deepening their kiss. Finally, they broke apart, breathless (though they technically don’t need to breathe).

Then, blue eyes met yellow, a demon told an angel he loved him, and that angel answered with a kiss holding the fire and passion of 6000 years of memories.


End file.
